


A List

by zombiefishgirl



Series: Of Ardour and Adoration [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lists, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiefishgirl/pseuds/zombiefishgirl





	A List

1\. The way her fingers always smelt of the elfroot she collected.  
2\. The way she went out of her way to know and talk to everyone in Skyhold from the most self important noble to the latest refugee.  
3\. How fiercely loyal she was to her friends.  
4\. How seldom she wore any small clothes.  
5\. The way she would curl up, catlike, to read.  
6\. How impossibly green her eyes were.  
7\. The way in the height of passion she would call out phrases in Elvhen, prayers to Gods he did not know and terms of endearment he could not understand.  
8\. The way she could spend a whole night in his bed, just talking with him when he could not sleep from the nightmares and staring up at the stars seen in the hole in his roof.  
9\. The way she, the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor would, when she thought no one was looking play in the puddles in the Skyhold courtyard with the delight of a child.  
10\. The way she could put so many different kinds of people at ease, from playing pranks with Sera, drinking with Bull and the Chargers to discussing books with Dorian and talking about some obscure piece of knowledge with Solas, all with equal delight.  
11\. The way she would never let him take himself too seriously. Flirting and teasing him until he would begin to stammer and blush before smiling at him with such affection it was like the sun appearing from behind a cloud.  
12\. The way, on the seldom occasion he managed to make her blush, the tips of her delicately pointed ears would turn almost as pink as her lips.  
13\. The way she would talk to all of the mounts in the stables, from the most cantankerous war horse, to one of those ridiculous nugalopes or even that frankly terrifying bog unicorn, like they could understand her.  
14\. The way they actually DID seem to understand her.  
15\. The way, when she would kiss him, she would press her whole body right up against him.  
16\. Her ass, like a slightly overripe peach.  
17\. The calluses on the fingertips of her otherwise soft hands. Hardened from wielding her bow.  
18\. The way, when she was truly happy, she could not keep the smile out of her voice.  
19\. The way she, a Dalish elf with very little patience for the Game of Orlais could within a single evening have an entire court wrapped around her finger.  
20\. The way she was always concerned with his well being, making sure he had eaten and slept at some point within the last week at the very least.  
21\. The way on the very seldom occasion she DID wear smallclothes they were black and lacy.  
22\. Her love of tiny cakes.  
23\. The way she ate every meal with amazing gusto, more often than not eating more than all of her companions with the possible exception of The Iron Bull, belying her willowy frame.  
24\. The way she would fall asleep with him. Wrapped tight in his embrace, her head over his heart.  
25\. The way, at those times, he felt like he could protect her from all the dangers she faced. Like he could keep her with him, warm and safe.  
26\. The way when they were both having difficulty falling asleep she would tell him stories of her childhood. Travelling with the arravals, teasing the halla, the children of the clan huddled around the campfire telling each other horror stories of the Dread Wolf.  
27\. The way she would smile against his chest and admit that the other great bogeyman of those stories were humans and now she was lying in ones arms.  
28\. Her laugh, like the sweetest music.  
29\. The way she would warm her hands against him, making him shudder with the cold or from her being so close, he was not quite sure which.  
30\. The way she would snore softly when asleep.  
31\. The way she would vehemently DENY snoring the next morning.  
32\. The way she would bring him the shortbread he had developed a fondness for when she thought he was working too hard.  
33\. The way her inky black hair was as soft as silk.  
34\. The way she would tease out the curls in his hair that he spent so long setting in place.  
35\. The way she would giggle when his stubble ticked her as he kissed his way down her breasts, her stomach....between her thighs.  
36\. The way she never complained when he woke her with a bad dream.  
37\. The time she stumbled into his office in the small hours of the morning, roaring drunk and kissed him full on his mouth before whispering with childlike glee that she had killed a dragon earlier.  
38\. The way at the ball at Halamshiral he could almost swear that she was a little jealous of the ridiculous nobles surrounding him. As if he could focus on anyone other than her.  
39\. The way when they danced on the balcony, within moments he found all self-consciousness slip away and holding her close to him and staring into her large green eyes he felt almost graceful.  
40\. The way she never backed down from a challenge, be it pranks with Sera, drinking with The Iron Bull or betting it all in Wicked Grace.  
41\. The way she would steal all the covers for herself at night. Confessing somewhat shyly when he teased her about it that ever since Haven she sometimes felt like she could not be warm enough.  
42\. The way when they first began their courtship she would tell him what gossip she had heard the Orlesian nobles whispering about them. Even on his worst days she had him in stitches with her imitation of their overly refined accents.  
43\. The way she could be so free at times, they would be alone at a lake, at his lake as he sometimes thought of it, and she would just suddenly strip off her clothes and run into the water with laughter like birds.  
44\. The way she could be so free with nudity (part of her Dalish upbringing she would tease, none of these silly shem hang ups) but the first time she bared herself for him, just the two of them, alone in his office, how her cheeks and ears had both turned the softest shade of pink as if she worried that he would somehow dislike what he saw. As if one could be displeased with perfection.  
45\. How small she was, his hand could almost span her entire back.  
46\. How she could be a complete terror in the mornings unless woken softly, gently, preferably with lots of kisses.  
47\. Her skill as a hunter. He knew the elves skill by reputation but a year or so after they started seeing each other and went camping together he had to admit to truly being awed by the skill and speed with which she could hunt her prey.  
48\. How after a kill she would pray to her Gods. Softly and reverently, thanking them and the animals for their sacrifice.  
49\. The way she would sleepily try to teach him some words of Elvhen and then very valiantly try to stop herself giggling at his pronunciation.  
50\. Their weekly chess games, ankles intertwined under the table. Watching her bite her lower lip in concentration. Her eyes brightening when she saw an opening. Her smile when she won. How she never seemed to notice that he let her win just to see her smile.


End file.
